Patience
by authentic-redhead
Summary: Harry returns to the Burrow before leaving on his hunt for Horcruxes.  He plans to only be there a short while as the thought of being around Ginny makes him sick.  This is written preDeathly Hallows and thus contains no spoilers.


It was midday as Harry strolled up the drive to his second-favorite building in the world. The Burrow. Summertime had rolled around at last and Bill and Fleur were getting married the next day. That very night was the rehearsal dinner.

When Harry knocked on the door, he was slightly startled to hear an anguished cry of frustration come from the other side. Mrs. Weasley threw open the door, looking frazzled.

"Oh, it's you, Harry dear," she said, pulling him inside and hugging him. "It's complete chaos here and all the French are drunk. Could you do me a favor? I need a hand carrying down some flower pots for outside. They're up in Ron's room so you can drop your stuff there, too."

"Of course, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said, squeezing his way through the packed and noisy kitchen. "Where's Ro-?" He began, but she had already started shoving her way through the crowd and Harry tried desperately to follow her.

The kitchen was crowded and everyone in it was talking over one another, attempting to get their voices heard. Some were unmistakenably Weasleys, but most of them were completely unrecognizable. Indeed, there was a strong smell of alcohol and Harry noticed many empty wine glasses. As he made his way through the crowded kitchen he saw a large, portly man sitting on a chair, wearing a button down jacket that was stretched so that the buttons looked like they were going to burst at any moment, he was laughing obtrusively and patting his very large tummy in a contented sort of way. He was very red in the face and had a half empty wine glass in his hand.

Harry followed Mrs. Weasley up the stairs to the very top of the house. In Ron's room at least six or seven flower pots stood waiting. They each had large Calalillies or Daffodils in them. The flowers were at least three times the normal size. The pots looked like stone, though they were made of plastic and they each had a white lace ribbon tied around them. How or why they got up here Harry had no idea but he figured now wouldn't be a good time to ask.

"Oh, good you haven't changed into your fancy clothes yet. Could you bring these pots downstairs and onto the front lawn? Cedrella has quite a way with making things look good outside, she's arranging the whole alter landscape for us."

"Sure, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said, stooping to pick up the pot nearest him.

"I'm going to get Ron to help you and I'm off to tend to the - _relatives_," she put a certain amount of emphasis on the last word that made Harry sure today was not a day to cross her. She then turned and hurried out the door and down the stairs, calling for Ron.

The pot Harry was carrying wasn't very heavy at first, but after carrying three or four of them up and down ALL of the Weasley's stairs, even he, started to get tired. He was sweating by the time he was bringing the second to last one down, because Cedrella had him move around each pot at least twenty times before she was happy with it, usually ending up exactly where it had started and she would say every time, "Just got to learn to trust my instinct – eh, Harry?"

Cedrella had turned out to be yet another Weasley cousin and seemed nice but Harry wished she would pick a spot for the flowers and leave them there or else magically move them.

As he came past Fred and George's room on the second floor he found Ginny. And his heart stopped. She looked gorgeous. She was dressed in a floor length, fitted dress that clung to her tiny, slender figure. It had an empire waistline that tucked right under her bosom and from the waistline up it was silver and from the waistline down, black. She also must've been wearing heels because she was at least an inch and a half taller than she usually was. Her flaming hair was down, but the front had been pinned back so that her large eyes looked even rounder. She was holding something around the back of her neck and was looking around desperately.

Harry nearly dropped the pot he was carrying. As he stumbled and crashed into the railing she turned around and said, "Oh Harry, good! I'm so glad someone's here! I can't for the life of me figure out how to tie this ruddy thing. Do you think you could help?"

"Erm..." was all Harry could manage to get out at first. "Yeah, yes of course," he said, his brain kicking back into action and he nearly tripped over the flower pot in his haste to help Ginny.

"Thanks," she said, turning around and offering the back of her dress to him.

Had Harry been carrying the flower pot, he most definitely would have dropped it.

The back of her dress wasn't there. Instead, thin jewel incrusted straps wove gracefully from side to side of her dress, across her bare, creamy, pale, back. Harry didn't think he'd ever seen her look so beautiful in his life. She gathered up her long, flowing hair and held it to the side so that he could see her back properly. He admired the way her rose red hair shone against the silver of her dress.

The straps, though, were twisted, halfway up her back, slightly ruining the image of perfection. They connected to tie around her neck and to the front of her dress similarly to a halter dress. Stepping forward he wiped the sweat from above his lip with the back of his hand and eyed her back, trying to see the easiest way to fix it.

"This is terrible light," he said, squinting to see the straps with the dim lighting of the stairwell.

"Oh," Ginny said, "come in here." She took his hand and led him into Fred and George's room, which had been transfigured to look like a bedroom fit for a princess.

"Uncle William did it," Ginny said, noticing Harry's astonished gaze, "He has loads of cash and thought I needed a place to get ready. I didn't want all this, though," she said, motioning to the canopy above her bed, large makeup stand, and the tri-fold, floor length mirror. "Ah, well." She said shrugging, as if to say, 'you can't have everything.' "At least it's not pink. Have you seen Fleur's room?"

Harry shook his head, glad she was keeping conversation. His hands shook slightly as he undid the straps on the back of her dress to retie them properly. He accidentally brushed her warm back with his sweaty, dirty, hand and received what felt like electric shocks through his body.

"Oh its absolutely re_volting_!" she said. "Unless you really love pink. She's been an absolute _nightmare_. And as if she's not bad enough, _Gabrielle_ is waltzing around, telling me to do all sorts of things and asking, '_Where is_ _Har-eee? Where is Har-eee?'_" Ginny did a perfect imitation of Gabrielle's young girlish, French accent."I swear, Harry, I'm going to murder her!"

Harry laughed. "No, you're not Gin, you'll ruin the ceremony."

Ginny snorted. "Sure! You just don't want me to kill her so YOU can have her!"

This time Harry didn't laugh. "No, Ginny, I don't." He had finished tying her straps and he reluctantly dropped his hands to his side. She turned slowly to look up at him. They were only inches apart.

When Ginny next spoke it was in a timid whisper. "I know you don't Harry, I was just-," She broke off, looking down.

"Look," Harry said, taking a few steps back from her, trying to master the temptation to do what he wanted to do so badly. "This isn't easy for me either."

"Harry," Ginny emitted, taking a step toward him, with a slightly worried look on her face.

But, Harry turned and hurried from the room. He hoisted up the flower pot and rushed down the stairs. He was leaving the last person he ever wanted to leave. Let alone, leaving her hurt, confused, and disappointed.

Harry breathed deeply as he stepped out onto the Weasley's lawn. There was an array of chairs set up. And Harry could see Cedrella, directing Ron with the flower pot Harry had left in Ron's room. He chuckled softly as he saw Ron give an exasperated cry and say, "I've already put it there twice! Remember? You don't like the way the sun hits it from there!"

Harry then heard Cedrella reply, "Yes, I remember quite as well as you do Ronald, but the wedding will be at a different time of day won't it?" Cedrella said, winking. She had a girlish voice, not high like Umbridge's had been, normal pitched, yet still very girlish.

Ron came huffing and puffing toward Harry once Cedrella had found an appropriate place for the overgrown Callalily. "I swear I'm gonna-"

"I know," Harry said, laughing. "But, you can't choose your relatives."

"Hey," Ron began, as Harry returned from placing the last oversized Sunflower where Cedrella had instructed him too. He didn't have to move it very much this time because she had already left a spot for it. "I saw you talking with Ginny, is everything alright?"

Harry looked up at Ron, shocked that he wanted to discuss something like this. "Mate, Hermione's doing things to you." Harry replied, wondering how _Ron_ could possibly have just asked Harry that.

"I know," Ron said, suddenly a dreamy expression crossed his face. "Harry, you have no idea."

"Whoa, way too much information."

"No, see that's the thing," Ron cried. "We haven't done anything, you know, and yet she makes me feel so… so different." Ron finished somewhat lamely.

"What do you mean?"

"Like we've never had-,"

"-No, I get that part I meant the rest of it." Harry interrupted quickly.

"Oh, well, I dunno, she just- we don't- I feel…. complete, when I'm with her, you know? And I feel whole, and so much better about everything. Harry, I don't know what I'd do without her. Really. If she left…"

"Ron, this is getting really weird." Said Harry, wondering where his best friend had gone.

"Harry, you've got to give it a try!"

"Give WHAT a try?"

"You know," Ron said, catching Harry's eye and grinning.

"Oh," _I have, _Harry thought grimly, _It just doesn't work that way for me, unfortunately._

As they approached the front door a cry sounded out.

"Harry! Oh, how've you been? I feel like I haven't seen you in ages!"

"Only three weeks, Hermione," he said, laughing and wrapping his arms around the small of her back as she threw her arms around him.

"I know, but Ron's seen you way more than me and that's not fair!" she cried, releasing him at last.

Ron, Harry was surprised to see, wasn't jealous at all. In fact he smiled warmly at the sight of his two best friends hugging.

Hermione then slipped her arm around Ron's waist and walked with them.

Harry stared at the ground. He didn't mind Ron and Hermione being together, in fact it made him happy that they were happy, but he had never been with the two of them and not had Ginny to occupy him. Was this how it was going to be while on the search for horcruxes? Harry, the third wheel?

"Harry," Hermione said suddenly. "Are you alright?" She looked concerned as she grabbed his arm and turned him to look at her.

"What? Oh, yeah, I'm fine, don't worry about me!" He said, nodding, with a brave attempt at a smile and a tone he hoped wasn't overly sincere. "I was just thinking. I think I'll just going to go up to my room for a bit. Shower and change out of these clothes, you know." And he left. He went inside the house and he had difficulty passing through the herd of people clogging the Weasley's kitchen. Eventually, however, he made it through unscathed.

As he made his way up the stairs, he passed Ginny on the landing. The front of her hair had been tucked back with bobby pins and she had put in earrings. He couldn't bear to look at her and couldn't think of what to say, and so said nothing as he passed her. He continued his way upstairs. He didn't hear her move again after he had passed her and a twinge of guilt burned at his insides, but he just swallowed and moved onward.

After getting his clothes from Ron's room he went down a floor to shower and he showered quickly and he was just changing into his nicer black dress pants when he realized he had forgotten his shirt in Ron's bedroom.

Feeling very overwhelmed with thoughts of Ginny and Ron and Hermione, he crashed onto his bed, thinking about a particular redhead. He sighed deeply.

Suddenly with a soft knock on his door, a particular redhead came into see him. He sat up quickly, uncomfortably aware that he hadn't put on a shirt. His defenses were low, and he knew, if she tried, he wouldn't be able to resist her.

"Harry," her voice was soft, like the coo of a dove. "Erm, Harry, it's me."

"Come in," he said, looking everywhere for his shirt and grabbing it at last.

She did quickly and quietly. She shut his door and spotting him without his shirt on stopped abruptly. "Oh, sorry, I'll just," and she made to leave again blushing furiously.

"No!" Harry cried quickly throwing the shirt aside, "I mean, you can if you want to, but I don't have a problem, I mean, you know…." His voice trailed off and he wished he hadn't spoken, he cast around for the shirt he had thrown aside.

"Harry, look," she began, and he sat himself down on the bed and motioned for her to do the same. When she sat down he noticed her eyes were slightly red, as though she might've been crying, but he wasn't sure. "When you passed me on the stairs without saying anything…that's not the way I want things to be between us. I don't want us to not be able to talk to one another. If we can't be together, surely we can be friends, right?"

Harry was mortified to see that she was crying.

"Cause I really d-do want to be on speaking terms, even if we c-can't be together. We should at least be p-pleasant to one another, right? And I'm sorry, Harry. I'm r-really really sorry."

Harry sat there for a moment, his heart thumping, nearly bursting out of his chest. He sat there watching her shoulders shake as she turned to try and hide the tears that ran down her face. Then, he did the only thing that made sense. He hugged her. He wrapped his strong protective arms around her small fragile body and awkwardly rubbed her back a little. It was awkward, but he felt like he had to do _something_. However, feeling his bare skin against her like that sent his blood pumping and his nerves were on end.

Ginny wasn't the type to cry into his shoulder, but she did lay her head there, probably trying very hard NOT to cry. Suddenly, she burst out with, "God, you git, you got me to cry!" She half-laughed, half-cried, to show that she was kidding, as she tried to wipe her eyes clean. "That's something _none_ of my brothers have been able to accomplish in about a year and a half. God, I hate makeup!"

Harry pulled away from her and took her face in his hands and with his thumbs, wiped away the tears now falling down her face.

"Ginny, I'm sorry. You're right, that was really rude of me not to say anything to you. Of course we can still be friends. I don't know why I did that, I guess I'm just having a really hard time getting used to being around you again and not being able to be _with_ you."

When Ginny continued to leak tears, Harry said, "Ginny, don't cry, you look so beautiful tonight." The moment he said it he wished he wouldn't have. _That's nice,_ Harry thought, _tell her you can't be together, but tell her she looks beautiful._ He dropped his hands from her face, and looking away he got up and strode moodily to the window to look out across the lawn. Resting his arm on the top sill, he could easily place his forehead against the cool glass.

"Look, Ginny, I'm sorry I said that," he said striding back over to sit across from her on the bed. "I know it must be hard for you, too. But we've both got to learn to make adjustments. This isn't going to be easy, so I think we should just try to keep a safe distance, for now at least, until we get more comfortable being friends, okay?"

Ginny nodded then looked up at him. Her light chocolaty brown eyes were wide and innocent and swimming with tears. It was so hard, looking at her, and knowing he couldn't have her. Her fair, milky skin and her rose-petal red, long locks that cascaded down her back and breasts like a waterfall, felt like they were taunting him. Daring him to do what he knew he mustn't. Her perfect face was dotted here and there with perfect freckles. She was perfect.

And she was moving closer. Harry didn't know what to do. His mind was saying _NO!_ But his heart was saying, _yes._ As Ginny inched forward Harry could feel his breath not restoring quite as much oxygen to his brain as it usually did. He felt light headed, or like he was living in a dream, uncomfortably aware of everything around him.

Their faces were mere centimeters apart and they could feel each others hot breath on their own lips. They could smell the two months of wanting. Wanting so bad what they had had before. The both knew, at that moment, the other wanted this just as much as they, themselves, did.

Without realizing it, Harry initiated the kiss. He moved in slowly and delicately. She was off-limits, forbidden, but she was here and she was with him. They lips barely made contact, they were both so scared.

Then, Ginny scooted herself forward slightly on the bed, deepening the kiss, and Harry lost all control. He moved up and toward her and put one large hand at her neck and the other firmly holding the small of her back. One of Ginny's hands found Harry's waist, the other snaked its way up around his neck. She put her hand right under his chin bone, while her fingers trailed back into his hair.

As they fell back onto the bed she snaked her fingers through his hair, sending chills up and down his spine. Every of both of their nerves were on end. Ginny got lost in his toned, muscular body. They were breathing together. They moved together as one unit, perfectly in time and space. As Harry laid her on her back on the bed and began to move his kisses down onto her neck and shoulder, her mouth found the top of his ear, like it always did.

Just then an electric shock surged through Harry. Everything came rushing back to him in that instant when she gently kissed the top of his ear. It was a gesture that was characteristic of Ginny. Something she had always done to him and was one of the things he longed for the most when he wasn't with her her. All those lonely, long, sleepless nights, he would think of her. He would remember her. And he would always remember her mouth on his ear. But, he couldn't have her. They could never be. Not if she wanted to live. Not if he wanted her to live.

Harry jerked up suddenly and stared at her, his chest rising and falling dramatically. She was clearly as shocked as he was. He continued to stare at her as he sat back on his feet. She sat up, looking at him with a mixture of fear and surprise on her face.

"Harry, what's wrong, what is it?" she asked crawling across the bed toward him.

"Ginny, no don't sit back," he said putting up his hand. "I can't do this. _We_ can't do this. I have to go." And he got up.

"Harry, where are you going? What are you talking about?"

But, Harry was already grabbing the tee-shirt and throwing it on. One that was _clearly_ not 'rehearsal dinner' appropriate.

"Harry, NO!" Ginny cried, reading his mind she scrambled off the bed and chased after him. She knew exactly what he was doing, as only Ginny could. She had innate access to his thoughts and feelings like no one else had. It was a gift and usually he was grateful for it, tonight, however, was different. He was already out the door and was down the stairs by the time she had gotten to the door. "Harry!" She cried as she leapt down the stairs two at a time.

He jumped the last five or so steps and burst into the kitchen, amazed to only see two people in it. The last two people he wanted to see. Ron and Hermione.

"Harry! What are you-" Hermione began, but Harry had already scrambled through the kitchen and made it outside before she even finished her sentence.

A moment later Ginny came dashing after him.

When they had both made it out on the lawn they noticed it had started to rain. Ginny tried to blink the water out of her eyes as she watched the love of her life hurtle himself across the lawn. She barely slowed a moment to kick off her shoes.

"Harry!" she screamed across the lawn, her voice tearing at her throat, her breath was coming in sharp pains in her lungs, but still she tore after him. "Harry! Don't go! Wait!"

He finally stopped on the dirt street just outside the fence at the edge of her lawn. Ginny stopped inside the fence. They were a good ten feet apart.

The bottom of her dress was splattered with mud, and so were his pants. Her shoes lay behind, forgotten on the front lawn. There was a clap of thunder and a flash of lighting and then it started to pour.

"Ginny," Harry gasped taking a few steps toward her, his breath ripping at his chest, "I love you." And with that he pulled her into one last heart-stopping, breathtaking, live-life-for-the-moment, kiss. As he let go of her she stood there, neither of them said anything. For she knew, in that moment, she could never have 'The Chosen One' or 'The Boy Who Lived' because he had to complete was he was born to accomplish. This was something he lived for. Something that meant she couldn't have him until it was done. This was something only he could do. This was something he was responsible for.

Tears filled her eyes as he reached the street, and she called, "I love you, too, Harry."

Their eyes met and in that moment they understood. They connected wholly and completely, on a different level than they ever had before. His hair was wet and half in his eyes, as he too, was attempting to blink the rain water that was now falling thick and fast, out of them. He just stared at her, and in his bright, emerald green, almond-shaped eyes she could see the torment, regret, sorrow, frustration, and fear. But most of all, she could see love. A love so strong it was almost unbearable. An eternal, everlasting, timeless, complete and total, all-encompassing, love. Inexplicable caring, for only a look _so_ full of love could make her heart ache like that. And, in that one look, Ginny knew that he held within him ageless and enduring love for her.

He loved her more than life itself and he would never, he _could_ never, feel for anyone the way he felt for that little redhead standing in front of him. He had never known that love could be so strong. He was willing to leave the one he loved, to protect her, to keep _her_ alive and well. He was experiencing pain far beyond any Lord Voldemort could ever inflict upon him. The pain he felt of leaving someone he loved was far greater than any physical pain. Harry finally understood what Dumbledore had meant. This pain he felt was tearing him apart. She may move on, but he wouldn't. He would never take another.

Harry blinked and the connection was broken.

He turned on the spot and with a faint, pop, he was gone.

Ginny was left staring at the place he had stood, only moments before, with simply the lone memories and the love to carry her through the time without him. As she stood there in her mud-splattered and sopping wet gown, her hair coming apart around her pretty face, the rain crashing heavy on her head and shoulders, she knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt that even if she wanted to, she would never love anyone the way she loved that Harry Potter.


End file.
